


i’m the dead girl in the pool

by Anonymous



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, Homophobic Language, Lesbophobia, Parent/Child Incest, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: this is the morning after, my mind is such a disaster...





	i’m the dead girl in the pool

**Author's Note:**

> title/description from “dead girl in the pool.” by girl in red

It’s quiet when Rose wakes up.

She’s not sure what she expected, really, but slowly drifting into consciousnesses, a warm glow filtering through her curtains, the room quiet but for soft breaths, wasn’t it. The ache between her thighs is a little more aligned with how she imagined waking up, painful, tinged with regret, and she slips her hand under the covers to gingerly touch her sore pussy, wincing at both the pain and the mess that flakes off under her fingertips.

Her breathing stutters, but she bites back the whimper she wants to give and withdraws her hand, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply.

This is her fault.

She knows it is, and that probably hurts worse than her cunt does, that she’d provoked this. She doesn’t know what she was thinking.

It’d probably started with the haircut.

It was drastic and Rose knew it; her stylist had known, too, trying to talk her down from getting rid of so much beautiful hair; but she was _tired_. She was tired of men staring, following her, making comments, she was tired of the assholes who thought it was okay to tug on it to get her attention, her father included, she was tired of how heavy and high maintenance it was...

Cutting it off felt like walking on air.

Buzzed short on the sides, trimmed at the top of her head, anyone who stared looked curious, maybe a little shocked or scandalized, but the lust, the fucking leering, was gone. She was free.

Slade hadn’t been so excited.

“What happened to your hair?” he asked. Well, said, maybe even growled, but Rose answers it like a question.

“I got it cut,” she replied simply, smiling as her palm skimmed the prickly fuzz of the close shave. “I think it looks good.”

His eye narrowed. “You look like a dyke.”

Good talk.

Changing her wardrobe hadn’t helped, either.

There was something freeing about it when she did it, trading skintight jeans for looser ones, blouses and tailored tees for baggy unisex shirts and hoodies, her chest flattened by sports bras instead of accentuated by the lacy things she blew so much money on. Yoga pants and sports bras for the gym got traded for more loose shirts and basketball shorts, wholly unflattering but comfortable, and it was so nice to go to the gym, with her short hair and ugly gym outfit, and not be bothered by men who wanted to “teach her to use the equipment properly.”

Again, her dad had something to say.

“You fall behind on laundry or something.”

“I just wanna dress comfortable, Dad. It’s not a big deal.”

The tipping point, though, was probably the date with a woman.

Rose had thought- hoped, maybe- that Slade would take it well. He accepted Joey, after all, didn’t he? He’d support her. She’s his little girl.

It’d been a knock-down, drag-out screaming match.

And then-

“I just want what’s best for you, Rosie.”

Slade is big, so big, tall and broad and unfazed by the mean butch persona Rose had carefully crafted for herself. He doesn’t care that she’s trying for intimidating, or _gay_ , as he crowds into her space and slams her door shut behind himself, pressing her against the nearest wall with his hips. He doesn’t give a shit that she’s crying, or trying to squirm away, or shoving at his chest.

No, Slade is single-minded about other things, like pushing his fingers past her waistband and stroking her pussy lips, not giving a damn as she cries out in protest, unconcerned with how dry she is. “Quiet, baby girl. Don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“Dad, get _off me_! Please, Dad, fucking- let go-!”

He kisses her like he’s trying to shut her up, and it works, her protests muffled by his lips, the retch she gives as his tongue traced her lips swallowed up by his mouth.

“I haven’t been taking care of you lately,” Slade murmurs against her cheek, free hand holding her jaw in place so he can lick into her mouth without her sinking her teeth into his tongue, one of his knees spreading her thighs apart so he can better get at her cunt, and Rose sobs as her body betrays her, pussy growing hot and wet with each circle of his calloused fingers against her clit. “So worried about Joseph and all his drama that I haven’t been giving you the attention you need. No wonder you felt you had to act out.”

“It’s not- an _act_ -“ she tries to grit out, but he just digs his fingers painfully into her jowls, pinching her clit cruelly and making her squirm. “M’fuckin’ gay-!”

He kisses her again, rough, claiming, biting at her mouth and her tongue and nearly choking her with his own, like he’s teaching her a lesson. “Don’t say that, kitten.” Rose doesn’t know how he manages to make it sound _gentle_ , like he’s not _molesting_ her to try and- god, she doesn’t even know why.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Slade _tearing_ her baggy tee down the middle, shoving it open only to grunt unhappily at the sight of the unflattering sports bra and tear it open, too. It feels good, she’ll admit, to let her breasts free after a long day, but not like this, not when her dad’s big hand is cupping her tit and brushing across the nipple while she sobs.

“Dad- ‘lease-“ He ignores the words she chokes out, holding her still as he quickly opens her fly, shoving her jeans and plain cotton panties down easily before he returns to rubbing her pussy with his fingers, the slick sounds making her face burn with shame and disgust. She’s not getting wet from this, not from a fucking man, not from her father- but Slade knows how to touch a woman, knows how to stroke his daughter’s pretty cunt until it’s soaking his fingers with slick.

His eye flutters shut when he tastes her, and Rose chokes on another sob.

“It’s alright, princess,” Slade assures her, tugging at his own fly, slamming his forearm across Rose’s chest to keep her pressed against the wall when she tries to struggle away, her head knocking into the plaster with a little whimper. His cock is big, thick, and Rose shudders, tears still dripping down her face as she gags on her sobs, trying to close her legs only to have them shoved open again. “Daddy’s got you, Rose. I’ve got what you need.”

The head of his cock feels hot, scorching against her sensitive clit and plump pussy lips, and Slade only drags it through her wetness once before he starts pressing inside, ignoring the way Rose struggles and claws at his arm, crying for him to stop until the tip pops inside, her insides clenching involuntarily around him.

“So tight.” He kisses her trembling lips, her eyes far away as he hikes her thighs up in his hands, shifting her up the wall so he can finally start pushing inside her properly. “You really thought I’d let my baby girl waste her sweet pussy on some fucking dyke in a shitty bar? Let you put on a strap and forget what your cunt’s for?”

Rose just sniffles and squirms, shutting her eyes to try and block it out, but his voice more than makes up for the lack of the look in his eye, one part affectionate and one part lecherous. The deeper his cock gets, the thicker it feels, and she _hates_ that she’s still wet, that she’s not bone fucking dry while being fucked by her own goddamn father. It might be a blessing for the pain, but it feels like a loss.

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmurs, just enough of a sharp edge in his voice to make her shiver. “You don’t want to fuck a woman. You just needed the right cock to sit on. And your daddy has just what you need.”

He pulls out and Rose’s fingers scratch divots in the paint on the wall as he slams back inside her.

And now she’s here, waking up in a warm bed with an aching pussy, an aching _everything_ , marks from her dad’s fingers and teeth scattered across her body, her head pounding: probably dehydrated from crying.

There’s a shift behind her and then a heavy weight around her waist, something hard pressed against her ass as Slade noses into her short hair. The fact that her pussy clenches, already feeling warm, makes her want to cry all over again.

“Morning, baby girl,” Slade mumbles into her hair, rolling his hips with a little groan before pressing his cock between her thighs, rubbing the shaft against her lips to slick it with Rose’s wetness. Her stomach turns, and she swallows back bile before reaching to guide Slade’s cock between her folds and into her cunt.

“Morning, Daddy.”


End file.
